Lance and Pam | Backdated to 2/19
Feb. 19th, 2018 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainLance returns Fatale's knife, and they discuss the incident - or not so much, really
Pam made a face as another knife failed to stick in the wall and instead fell to the floor where it spun ineffecually. She should be able to do this. She had fucking amazing hand-eye coordination - and actually, the knives had hit the center of her new target every time. They just hadn't stuck, because she didn't have the coordination or power in her left hand that she had in her right.
"Six fucking weeks," she mumbled as she got up and went to go retrieve the knife. She was going to go nuts, end of story.
Lance didn't bother announcing himself, because Pam knew, every time, when he was around. It was fucking uncanny. So instead, he just walked up and leaned in the door, arms folded over his chest. "That what the doc said?"
"I didn't see a doctor. I went to Simon," Pam corrected, unfazed by Lance's sudden appearance. She wasn't sure how she always knew when he was nearby, but she did. It was reassuring, in a kind of fucked up way she didn't like to think too much about. "But yeah, somewhere around six weeks. I'm supposed to stop by so he can check on it. He gave me his cell number."
The older boy narrowed his eyes. "You trust him? I mean, if anyone has 'narc' written all over his face, it's that tight-ass pansy."
Pam shrugged. "I trust him. No good reason not to." She set the knife down on her dresser and sat down on the floor, pulling her knees up so she could rest her arms on them. "Besides, he could look at it without me being visible," she rationalized. "Not like anyone else could."
Lance let out a sigh. "Guess we gotta hope he isn't a dick, then."
Lowering his arms, he pushed off the doorway and stepped into the room, then dropped onto the floor across from her, bracing his back against the bed. "How's it doing? I mean, you aren't hurting are you?"
"Not really. It itches sometimes," she admitted. "But it's not like it's the first time, y'know? It'll heal." They always did, after all. She looked up from her knees. "So, how pissed off are they?" she asked, figuring that was why he'd come to find her. Might as well get the worst overwith.
"Less than I would have expected," he told her, but shrugged. "But baldy doesn't want 'anymore incidents' like this."
"Is that a nice way to say I shouldn't let the door hit me in the ass?" Which'd be fair, she guessed. At least he wasn't kicking them all out. Alex liked his stupid science class.
"Fuck that. All he said was not to let it happen again. So," Lance shrugged at her. "Just don't do it again. Or, you know, try not to."
"It's not like I tried to do it this time," Pam pointed out. "It just kinda happened."
"Yeah, I know," Lance softened. "Which is why I paid your little friend a visit today."
"Jeanne?" Pam looked up at Lance, puzzled. "Why?"
Lance snorted, and kicked out mindlessly at her foot. "Because she pushed all your buttons. Because she was reckless, and stupid, like all the kids over there are stupid, and she could have gotten someone killed."
Fatale considered that for a moment, then smiled a little. "Thanks." She let the smile fade and shrugged. "Pretty sure it was me being stupid, though," she admitted reluctantly. "You guys were right; sparring with them isn't a good idea." Well, barring Laura. But if anything happened, she'd heal.
"I'm always right," Lance agreed cockily, then reached down into his boot and pulled out Fatale's knife. "And I got this for you."
"Fuck!" Pam held out her un-casted hand, her smile brightening by several orders of magnitude. "She gave it back? I figured they'd be holding it as Exhibit A or some shit."
He handed it off to her by the blade, placing the hilt in her hand. "She gave it back, and she shined it too, apparently," he told her. "Said she wanted to give it to you herself, but fuck if I was going to let her wait that long. Something about an offering of goodwill."
"Whatever," Pam replied, inwardly pleased. Jeanne had been good - not as good as her, granted, but still. It was good to know she wasn't holding a grudge. She made a show of turning the knife over to examine it, then wove it through her fingers, back and forth. "Not sure why the fuck she shined it, but she didn't hurt it any."
Lance shrugged at her. "I didn't get it either. And...just as a heads up, I offered for her to take a look at the club."
"Yeah?" The knife stilled in Fatale's hand, blade flat between her fingers, and she looked up at Lance, trying to look only vaguely interested despite the sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How come?"
"As much as I don't like her," Lance sighed, "She's really fucking smart, with a photo-whatsits memory and all that jazz. And she knows computers. We've got Tessa on loan, but we don't know if she'll always be willing to do shit for us."
"Oh." Pam relaxed a little, though she set the knife down on the ground. "We could probably use someone who does, huh?"
"Unfortunately," Lance agreed, folding his arms over his chest.
She made a face. "I'd rather recruit Laura," she admitted. "Or Tommy, but if we haven't managed that yet, I don't think we're gonna."
He shrugged at her helplessly. "There's only so much we can do there. Fuck, if anyone's gonna make any headway with them, it's gonna be you. And Alex."
"Yeah. Sorry. We tried." Her reply was flippant, but her expression was anything but. Because...well, they had tried. Or she had, anyway. Tommy was pretty much always cool about hanging out, but didn't seem at all interested in staying.
Lance shrugged. "Whatever. We'll deal. Right now, we've got Tessa's info, so there's that."
Fatale frowned. "The girl who talks like a computer? What's her angle?"
"I don't know for sure," Lance admitted. "But she wants the FoH gone, and she has the info, so she's gonna help us. Only thing is, we owe her a favor in the future."
"Huh." Pam's forehead furrowed as she wondered what kind of favor computer girl could possibly want from them, then shrugged. "Fair deal, right? Are we gonna go take out the FoH then, finally?"
"Their headquarters at least, hell yeah," Lance nodded firmly. "Magneto can go do whatever the shit he wants, but we've got unfinished business."
"No shit." Pam raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that was half hopeful, half challenging. "I'm coming, right? I can do portals even if I can't throw for shit."
Lance frowned. Hey look, this was one of those decisions he had to make as a team leader that he fucking hated. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put him in charge, again? Oh right. The guy who left. "Can you, like, still defend yourself?" he found himself asking.
"I can stab well enough with my left," she reminded him, her chin jutting out assertively.
He nodded. "Then you're in. We'd be kind of fucked without the portal anyway."
"You'd be fucked without me, period," Pam insisted, but she smiled and flipped the knife confidently between her fingers.
"Yeah," Lance quirked a smile. "You're not wrong there."
Pam made a face as another knife failed to stick in the wall and instead fell to the floor where it spun ineffecually. She should be able to do this. She had fucking amazing hand-eye coordination - and actually, the knives had hit the center of her new target every time. They just hadn't stuck, because she didn't have the coordination or power in her left hand that she had in her right.
"Six fucking weeks," she mumbled as she got up and went to go retrieve the knife. She was going to go nuts, end of story.
Lance didn't bother announcing himself, because Pam knew, every time, when he was around. It was fucking uncanny. So instead, he just walked up and leaned in the door, arms folded over his chest. "That what the doc said?"
"I didn't see a doctor. I went to Simon," Pam corrected, unfazed by Lance's sudden appearance. She wasn't sure how she always knew when he was nearby, but she did. It was reassuring, in a kind of fucked up way she didn't like to think too much about. "But yeah, somewhere around six weeks. I'm supposed to stop by so he can check on it. He gave me his cell number."
The older boy narrowed his eyes. "You trust him? I mean, if anyone has 'narc' written all over his face, it's that tight-ass pansy."
Pam shrugged. "I trust him. No good reason not to." She set the knife down on her dresser and sat down on the floor, pulling her knees up so she could rest her arms on them. "Besides, he could look at it without me being visible," she rationalized. "Not like anyone else could."
Lance let out a sigh. "Guess we gotta hope he isn't a dick, then."
Lowering his arms, he pushed off the doorway and stepped into the room, then dropped onto the floor across from her, bracing his back against the bed. "How's it doing? I mean, you aren't hurting are you?"
"Not really. It itches sometimes," she admitted. "But it's not like it's the first time, y'know? It'll heal." They always did, after all. She looked up from her knees. "So, how pissed off are they?" she asked, figuring that was why he'd come to find her. Might as well get the worst overwith.
"Less than I would have expected," he told her, but shrugged. "But baldy doesn't want 'anymore incidents' like this."
"Is that a nice way to say I shouldn't let the door hit me in the ass?" Which'd be fair, she guessed. At least he wasn't kicking them all out. Alex liked his stupid science class.
"Fuck that. All he said was not to let it happen again. So," Lance shrugged at her. "Just don't do it again. Or, you know, try not to."
"It's not like I tried to do it this time," Pam pointed out. "It just kinda happened."
"Yeah, I know," Lance softened. "Which is why I paid your little friend a visit today."
"Jeanne?" Pam looked up at Lance, puzzled. "Why?"
Lance snorted, and kicked out mindlessly at her foot. "Because she pushed all your buttons. Because she was reckless, and stupid, like all the kids over there are stupid, and she could have gotten someone killed."
Fatale considered that for a moment, then smiled a little. "Thanks." She let the smile fade and shrugged. "Pretty sure it was me being stupid, though," she admitted reluctantly. "You guys were right; sparring with them isn't a good idea." Well, barring Laura. But if anything happened, she'd heal.
"I'm always right," Lance agreed cockily, then reached down into his boot and pulled out Fatale's knife. "And I got this for you."
"Fuck!" Pam held out her un-casted hand, her smile brightening by several orders of magnitude. "She gave it back? I figured they'd be holding it as Exhibit A or some shit."
He handed it off to her by the blade, placing the hilt in her hand. "She gave it back, and she shined it too, apparently," he told her. "Said she wanted to give it to you herself, but fuck if I was going to let her wait that long. Something about an offering of goodwill."
"Whatever," Pam replied, inwardly pleased. Jeanne had been good - not as good as her, granted, but still. It was good to know she wasn't holding a grudge. She made a show of turning the knife over to examine it, then wove it through her fingers, back and forth. "Not sure why the fuck she shined it, but she didn't hurt it any."
Lance shrugged at her. "I didn't get it either. And...just as a heads up, I offered for her to take a look at the club."
"Yeah?" The knife stilled in Fatale's hand, blade flat between her fingers, and she looked up at Lance, trying to look only vaguely interested despite the sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How come?"
"As much as I don't like her," Lance sighed, "She's really fucking smart, with a photo-whatsits memory and all that jazz. And she knows computers. We've got Tessa on loan, but we don't know if she'll always be willing to do shit for us."
"Oh." Pam relaxed a little, though she set the knife down on the ground. "We could probably use someone who does, huh?"
"Unfortunately," Lance agreed, folding his arms over his chest.
She made a face. "I'd rather recruit Laura," she admitted. "Or Tommy, but if we haven't managed that yet, I don't think we're gonna."
He shrugged at her helplessly. "There's only so much we can do there. Fuck, if anyone's gonna make any headway with them, it's gonna be you. And Alex."
"Yeah. Sorry. We tried." Her reply was flippant, but her expression was anything but. Because...well, they had tried. Or she had, anyway. Tommy was pretty much always cool about hanging out, but didn't seem at all interested in staying.
Lance shrugged. "Whatever. We'll deal. Right now, we've got Tessa's info, so there's that."
Fatale frowned. "The girl who talks like a computer? What's her angle?"
"I don't know for sure," Lance admitted. "But she wants the FoH gone, and she has the info, so she's gonna help us. Only thing is, we owe her a favor in the future."
"Huh." Pam's forehead furrowed as she wondered what kind of favor computer girl could possibly want from them, then shrugged. "Fair deal, right? Are we gonna go take out the FoH then, finally?"
"Their headquarters at least, hell yeah," Lance nodded firmly. "Magneto can go do whatever the shit he wants, but we've got unfinished business."
"No shit." Pam raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that was half hopeful, half challenging. "I'm coming, right? I can do portals even if I can't throw for shit."
Lance frowned. Hey look, this was one of those decisions he had to make as a team leader that he fucking hated. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put him in charge, again? Oh right. The guy who left. "Can you, like, still defend yourself?" he found himself asking.
"I can stab well enough with my left," she reminded him, her chin jutting out assertively.
He nodded. "Then you're in. We'd be kind of fucked without the portal anyway."
"You'd be fucked without me, period," Pam insisted, but she smiled and flipped the knife confidently between her fingers.
"Yeah," Lance quirked a smile. "You're not wrong there."
